


La Anoranza, The Yearning: Part Two.

by orphan_account



Series: Immigrant Caballero AU [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), Legend of the Three Caballeros (Cartoon), The Three Caballeros (1944)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Class Differences, Immigration & Emigration, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23382220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He just wants to feel more of Panchito inside of him for a little bit longer. He wants to think of nothing else. He's not ready.
Relationships: José Carioca/Panchito Pistoles
Series: Immigrant Caballero AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678903
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	La Anoranza, The Yearning: Part Two.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and I get no money.

The catalyst, to José's memory, started when he had a bad morning shift at work. He fucked up on a take-out order and got scolded by both the manager and the customer. He spent a good bit of the shift crying in the bathroom. He almost spent the night at a hotel instead, preferably one with a bar, or one located near a bar. He did not want to deal with the questions. He did not want to be around anyone. The only thing standing between him and his plan to spend the night at a bar somewhere was the thought of Panchito. His Mexican friend had started making dinner for Donald and him every night now. If he could not become an official cook somewhere and continue to work a factory job that he hated, he at least wanted to spend the free time that he did have doing the things he loved, which was gardening, crafting (developed from years of decorating for the Day Of The Dead), playing his guitar, and cooking.

José tried crying out all of his tears on the walk home. He was determined to not ruin this evening, but his poker face faltered. When he stepped through the front door of their small, humble home, Panchito was crossing through the living room, wearing that usual smile. José saw his smile and his bright eyes and heard his housemate tell him what he assumed was a greeting. He wasn't really paying attention. He still hadn't completely shaken off the feeling he got after being yelled at.

"José? My friend?"

José must not have responded to the greeting. He was so tired and scattered that he had a difficult time processing things.

The taller man tilted his head to the side when José continued to dodge his gaze. "Are you alright?"

José closed the door behind him and straightened himself up, trying his damnest to put on the mask and voice the voice that he planned on using for tonight. The mask nor voice materialize. The longer Panchito's sympathetic eyes peered into his, the harder it became to hide. He could feel his brow furrow, his eyes water up, and his bottom lip quiver.  
A tear breaks out and makes a line down his face. "No. Not really." He brings his hand up to cover his face, but it won't change the fact that Panchito saw him break down. Fuck. He could not believe that something as stupid as two people scolding him that morning put him in such a torn-up state. That's when he realized that this was not about about the one time two people yelled at him at work. This was a build up of constant scolding over weeks. This was about how José seemed to get closer and closer to snapping and quitting on the spot.

José starts for his room and he can hear Panchito follow him. Now he is trying his hardest to not snap at his friend and tell him to fuck off. He really wished he would just mind his own business right now.

"José." His voice is gentle, but also firm. It was a tone that he remembered his father using for when he was being an immature child, crying and storming off to his room to avoid a serious conversation, like what he is doing now. It also reminded him of the times his dear friends back home would try to talk with him, also to discuss serious matters, like to tell him he was drinking too much, or missing too much school.

Ah, Janeiro...

He does not remember how it went exactly, but he knows that he did not get angry or slap Panchito's hand away when he feels it rest on his shoulder. Perhaps it was because of the sudden memories, the voices of dear ones in his head. Homesickness. Blues. Anger to melancholy. 

He remembers slumping down on his creaky mattress and Panchito sitting down next to him, persistent. A blubbering, nonsensical conversation happens, with José doing most of the talking and Panchito listening intently. The Brazilian was too shy and embarrassed to look at him the majority of the time, but he knew he was listening. 

"My apologies...I don't know what's come over me...I was scolded by my boss...this is absurd..."

Panchito's warm words are barely processed, but still treasured none the less. "Cry, my friend...sorrow is apart of the living...all forms of pain are pain...you are allowed to hurt..."

By the end of this exchange, José's face is in Panchito's shoulder and his hand is on his chest. It was unintentional. He just wants to be heard. He wants to be held.

He always knows when Panchito is close to coming. He'll thrust harder, pushing excitable yelps out of José. He'll feel his hot breath against the back of his neck, in his hair. He'll growl in his ear and possessively nip at the shell. It's in the way he manhandles him, how his grip tightens. Seeing and hearing and feeling this side of Panchito is thrilling. Some people may find this animal-like, feral, scary. But José will let him do it. He wants all of that frustration out of him. He knows there's a lot that his friend is keeping to himself. He's too happy. Too whimsical. If there was something José could do to make sure that Panchito would never have a bad day for the remainder of his life, or that he would never feel anger or sorrow ever again, he would do it. If fucking him senseless helps him, he will let him use his body as he pleases.

José loves Donald dearly, but if it weren't for his other housemate, he probably would have returned back to Brazil at some point. Without Panchito, he feels alienated. Only another immigrant that was trapped in the same mental prison ("I am drowning in my comfortable life here, but I cannot go back home") as himself could really help him through this identity crisis. He hopes he can do the same in return with these moments between them.

There comes that hand on José's shoulder and the other on his hip, trying to keep him in place as the thrusts get harder and rougher. There come the yelps of surprise and bliss in response. "Ah, ah, ah, ah..." They're getting there. A part of José wishes that he would keep going, but that may not be wise. Their bodies can only take so much. He doesn't want to think about how his body is burning from the pain he should not enjoy, but he does, and exhaustion. He just wants to feel more of Panchito inside of him for a little bit longer. He wants to think of nothing else. He's not ready. 

Finally, he pulls out and flips a trembling, dreamy-eyed José onto his back. ("I want to see you.") He had told him that he liked watching his face redden. It was also a good way to put his hand over his mouth for when he got too loud. José had never been one to hold back anything. Any sounds, that is. Words. Poetry. Romancing. Ever since his arrival in the States, it should have been known to all those he had met that he was heartfelt, romantic, and sincere. His orgasms, however, were very long and drawn out because José would try to resist and hold up as long as possible. When he came, Panchito would have to thrust an extra six to ten times to help ride it out. José had to admit that he's never had such a...passionate top before. He had worn out a lot of guys with how long he would hold up. He's had guys pull out in the middle to stop for a breather or pass out. Even with his tiring factory work and his times tending to their small gardens out back - Panchito still had the energy to pound him into the mattress. He rarely had a guy wear him out too much after, so much so that he couldn't return the favor.

Maybe one day, they can go more than once. Maybe Panchito could tie him up and make him take it more than once. José's never been restrained before. He's certainly not a prude. He's just never trusted anyone enough to do it with. But he trusts him. Perhaps it's the feelings of alienation and feeling like there is no one else to turn to. Even though he has not known Panchito that long, he trusts him that much. He trusts that he will stop if he tells him to and he will take care of him.

There's also the dressing up. Panchito had also yet to see him in one of his dancing girl outfits...


End file.
